The Cry of Cicadas
by Mun Pai
Summary: AU. Raito's POV. After two years of drug abuse, Raito's secret is found out by his sister and his father. Forced to go through rehabilitation, Raito denies any help at first. But he comes to find salvation in an unlikely friend. [LxRaito]
1. Oh, to be normal again

The Cry of Cicadas

Part One: Oh, to be normal again

I don't like the way the cicadas buzz nonstop in the summertime. It's like they've all got too much to say to each other and not enough time to say it all in. The only problem is that they all want to talk at the same time. How is one going to even hear what the other has to say?

They're all too absorbed with their own problems. In that aspect, I guess they're a lot like humans. We never shut up either. We're always blathering away about what's wrong with our lives, why can't we have such-and-such that would make everything so much better. "Oh, if only I had a huge house in California, then I'd be happy." It's that kind of bullshit that makes us more like insects than cicadas are. As humans, we're naturally trying to survive. What used to be every man for himself has turned into the struggle for the most material garbage someone can pack into their overpriced, ridiculous house.

It's like we're all playing one big game of King of the Hill, but the hill is more like Mt. Everest. No one's ever going to get to the top but everyone tries to anyway, even if that means they have to step on their best friends' faces to get there.

So I'm talking about people like I'm some all knowing God who does nothing wrong. Hah. I'm not going to lie, I played King of the Hill for a while, but that's useless to me now. I shouldn't even bother to try and get to the top of anything, whether it's a mountain or a pile of shit. Right now, I'm the lowest of the low. I'm the first person someone steps on when they try to get up the hill. I've been that way for years now. Ever since I was taken out of society, I've been nothing but a statistic. One of those "such and such out of such and such teens will do crack in their lifetime" kind of things.

What I'm talking about…what this story is really about, that is, is something that happened in my life four years ago. Like any other teenager, I wanted to be rebellious against my parents in some way. It almost seems as though no matter how good someone has it, he always wants to make his (or her, I'm sorry) life miserable. Going back to what I was talking about earlier, it really is like people just want to have things to complain about. This must be why teenagers are so rebellious. It gives them something to whine to their friends (who don't really care but pretend like they do) about. Meanwhile the friends act sympathetic and then laugh later on about the problems So-and-So "just wouldn't stop bitching about at school."

Throughout high school, I was one of those hopeless peons who bitched and moaned to his friends about how annoying my little sister was, how my parents were always invading my privacy, and how teachers really couldn't teach their way out of a sock. For the first year, it was like that. It was all innocent little problems. Nothing big, nothing that would cause long lasting problems, physically or mentally, but after a while, I started doing things that ended up getting me into serious trouble.

People ask me now why I did it but I can't even say why. I honestly don't remember whether it was desperation for an escape or just peer pressure. Whatever it was, it started in my second year of high school. At that time, I was going to a pretty prestigious private school in Tokyo. My parents made a big deal about the school and how smart I must've been to get in there, but I get the feeling my Dad bribed them to let me in. I wasn't the only one who thought that either—most of the kids at the school said that the only way I made it in was because of my family's money.

I didn't need people to tell me what I already knew.

This "serious trouble" I'm talking about is, of course, drugs. Like I said, I don't know why I did it. It was probably because my friends were doing it, it was available, and it seemed like something exciting to do.

In other words, I was bored out of my skull. One would think that being in Tokyo, I'd never be bored. It was quite the contrary though. Living in Tokyo, I became sick of the city pretty fast. I didn't want to become a country bumpkin, but I was sick of the monotony of it all. It was like I was living in some kind of sick joke where every day is the same. People say the same things, the same things happen, I eat the same things, and I even wear the same clothes. So that's why I did it, I guess.

For two years, I was a junkie. I tried just about anything I could get my shaking hands on. Once I'd tried stuff, I decided what I liked best. It was stupid, but I was stupid and thought my life was "so fucking miserable" so I thought that drugs would help with the problem…Whatever the problem was. I didn't realize back then that there WERE no problems before I started using. All the problems showed up AFTER that. My grades dropped; I went from being a top student to one of the lowest in the entire school. Of course my parents noticed. They didn't know what was exactly wrong, but they knew something was up. They always knew something was wrong even when it was the tiniest, most insignificant thing.

I kept telling them I was just tired. I started losing weight. It wasn't like I was fat or anything at first it was just that whatever there was, it all sloughed off because of the stuff I was using. A couple of times I had withdrawals because I wasn't able to get my hands on it. That's when my parents really caught on. I got all shaky and crazy, not to mention sick. It was like going to hell in a way.

The week before graduation is when it happened.

It, as in when I got caught.

The memory of it is a bit faded, so bear with me if it doesn't make a whole lot of sense. (And I also will say that this so-called "story" will get going soon. I know right now it's unbearably boring.)

The bathroom of our house was always weird. For a bathroom, it had an unusually high ceiling with a tiny skylight. The corners of the walls were curved and everything was made of white tile…Even the sink was. The shower and the bathtub were in an adjoining room. Everything in there was also made of tile. I distinctly remember the rubber duck my sister kept in the shower. It eventually grew mold and had to be thrown out, but I wasn't there for that catastrophe.

I was sitting on the floor next to the bathtub. My parents and my sister were supposed to be out for the day at some sort of parent teacher meeting so I wanted to take the chance to get some sort of high before they came back. It was getting harder and harder to reach that level of energy I'd experienced the first time I'd snorted crack. I had been told that it'd get harder the more I used it but I couldn't help it. Addiction is an ugly thing, after all. The line I'd made was sitting invitingly along the edge of the tub.

As I leaned forward and tilted my head a little, I found myself wondering what the hell I was doing. I'd been smart once. I'd been a regular kid once. Sure, it was boring, but was all this really worth it?

I hesitated. During that split second, the door to the bathroom swung open. I turned around, horrified. There was my little sister, Sayu, staring at me with a curious look on her face. Unsure of what to do, I just sat on the floor like a dumb ass. I didn't want to just snort it up in front of her but I didn't want to get rid of it either. Any thoughts I might've had about it not being worth it were gone. I needed that stuff. I didn't feel normal anymore without it.

It's funny; I'd been trying to get away from being normal…yet the more I used it, the stranger I felt without it. It had turned into a way of knowing I was still alive. I needed it to feel normal, the one thing I'd been trying to get away from in the first place.

"_Oniichan_?" she said, cocking her head to the side, "What're you doing?" She took a step toward me. I pushed my back against the wall of the tub, as if there was some way I might just sink into it. Of all the people, Sayu was the last person I wanted to know about what I was doing. I'd prided myself my entire life on being a good older brother to her. Now any respect she might've had for me was going to vanish.

Was it really worth it? Was doing drugs really worth the loss of my relationship with my sister?

"It's nothing, Sayu," I replied, my voice betraying any sense of normality I'd been trying to impress on her. My mind was racing. I wanted to think of some sort of excuse for why I was sitting on the floor of the bathroom. The one time I couldn't think of a good lie. Usually I was good at that. I'd tell my parents that the reason I'd gotten so skinny was because I was stressed and kept getting sick (which was the truth). They believed me and suggested I see a doctor. Whenever I told them I'd made an appointment, I just went out and avoided the hospital. I never saw any doctors.

Obviously, Sayu didn't believe me. The bridge of her nose crinkled slightly; a sign that she was annoyed. All I could do was watch from my spot on the floor as she advanced toward me. She didn't bother to shut the door…probably because she wanted my parents to hear what was going on. "Nothing? _Oniichan_, you're sitting on the floor, giving me a look like you can see dead people!" she cried. (She'd just seen that American movie, The Sixth Sense.) Without any hesitation, she knelt down in front of me. "What's going on? Tell me the truth!"

If I hadn't been a junkie getting ready to go through withdrawal, I would've told her. I would've wanted her to see there was something wrong with me so I could get help. But that was it. I _was _a junkie. There was no way around it. Because of that, there was no way I was going to accept Sayu's offer for help or anything of the sort. "I said it's nothing! Just leave me alone," I said childishly.

Whenever someone says "Leave me alone," it's a red flag that something really is wrong. Sayu shook her head. "You've been acting really weird lately. Mom and Dad and I are all worried about you," she said, "Please just tell me what's making you be this way!" I noticed tears welling up in her eyes. I wondered how long she'd known something was going on and how much she actually knew. Also, I wondered if she'd told our parents that she knew I was up to something. If she had told them, then I only had a few minutes to convince her I was fine or just run away.

"You're going to tell Mom and Dad what I'm doing, aren't you?" I asked her, "So what's the point in me telling you now?" I was being ridiculous, that much I knew. As soon as Sayu got out of the bathroom, she'd go straight to one of our parents and rat me out.

She bit her lip and tentatively placed her hand on my shoulder. It was shaking. I watched as she looked beyond me and saw the line I'd made. She gasped and removed her hand, only to leave a stinging slap across my face. "Why're you doing this!" she shouted. It was hard to watch her cry and to listen to her hysterical voice. This had been my choice. Why should she be so concerned with me anyway?

I didn't want her to know. All I could do was push her away. I got to my feet and stared down at her. "You have no idea what's going on," I spat, "I need that stuff. Take it away and things will only get worse!" My head was reeling. I really felt like I was going crazy. All my emotions were out of whack. I felt like I was going to vomit.

Right as I put my hand on my mouth and doubled over, I saw my Dad standing in the doorway. Unbelievably, he seemed calm. I felt his eyes on me as I spewed into my hand. Sayu got up and moved to the doorway. Dad pushed passed her and grabbed me roughly by my arm. My knees were going out and I found myself wishing that the bitter, steely taste in my mouth would go away. I couldn't tell what was going on anymore. I hoped Sayu had left the room.

"Raito, get yourself together," Dad said harshly, "You've got no idea how much trouble you're in." I thought I knew. He'd just yell at me and smack me around and it'd be over. That was what I wanted, anyway.

Oh, no, it wasn't going to be that simple. I'd dug myself into a deep hole and there was no way I'd be climbing out. It was stupid of me to even think for a second that my Dad would let up so easily. He was going to slam down his iron fist and demand I change my ways. Who knew how he'd do it, but he'd make me do it, that's for sure.

With my shaking hand, I wiped my mouth and tried to fix him with a glare. "You just don't understand," I grumbled. My throat was scratchy. I was dizzy and ready to just fall to the floor. All I wanted was to disappear. Vanish. These were problems I didn't want to deal with even though I'd brought them upon myself. It was immature of me, but I didn't want to face the consequences. I should have known that eventually I would get caught. Nothing lasts forever.

Dad gritted his teeth. His brow furrowed angrily. "You're damn right I don't understand," he said, "I didn't know you could be so stupid as to do drugs! I thought I'd raised you better than that!" His words were meant to hurt and they did. I used to try and be a good son. I used to want my Dad to be proud of me. Everything I'd strived for went down the drain the moment I first started using. Like Sayu, he'd probably lost any sort of good opinion of me. The only person left to come to hate me was my Mom. Without a doubt, her opinion of me would turn foul too.

I said nothing. There was nothing I could think of to retort. Furthermore, there was no point in arguing. Even in my delirious state, I knew that much. Arguing with my father would get me no where. As soon as he let go of me, I fell to the floor, almost banging my head against the edge of the bathtub. I forced myself to look up at him. My mind was numb. I'd get angry at myself later, I supposed.

"Tomorrow morning, you're turning yourself in," Dad told me, "You're going to get help and then you're going to realize what a huge mistake you've made. You could've had so much, Raito. Now you're stuck with nothing."

What he said was true. Even if I wanted to be normal again, it'd never happen. Society no longer desired me. All that was left for me now was to try and heal. Maybe there would be some sort of salvation for me in the future, but it would only be of my own creation. I had to want help to be helped. At that time though, I didn't want it.

I didn't want salvation. I wanted to just stop existing.

(Author's Note: This chapter was very…weird and probably not all that exciting. I apologize for starting this story on such a random moment, but that's just how I wanted it. Anyway, obviously this is severely AU. :D Alternate Universe. Next chapter: L makes his first appearance. Whoo hoo!)


	2. Decisions

The Cry of Cicadas

Part Two: Decisions

Rehabilitation. It's something some liberal asshole created in order to help criminals and junkies feel accepted again. Just the thought of it was enough to make me want to vomit again. I didn't want to be lumped in with all those rejects. The argument (if it could be called that) with my Dad ended in me being trapped in my sister's room. Dad said he figured that I had more drugs in my room so I wasn't going to be allowed back in there until he found all of it.

I was alone. Sayu wasn't allowed to talk to me. I doubted she wanted to anyway. One would think that in my situation, I'd search through her stuff for any signs that she was being rebellious too. It was quite the contrary though; I just laid on her bed and stared at the ceiling. I was too exhausted to even get up. I hadn't gotten a hit. All I could think about was how much I needed it. It made me feel alive. It gave me energy. Without it I was nothing but an empty shell; a soulless body. I would give anything to feel it shoot up my nose…to feel it course through my body. I wanted a rush.

No. I squeezed my eyes shut, as if I was trying to squeeze the thoughts I was having out of my head. I didn't want to think about it but it just kept coming back again and again. Pangs of that painful desire shot through my body. I groaned and rolled onto my side. There had to be some way to put myself at ease. All I wanted to do was to get those thoughts away. I just did not want to be reminded of my addiction for once. As I opened my eyes and looked around the room, my mind was flooded with memories of what life was like before I became an addict.

Our family had been a normal, happy one. Yeah, we had our squabbles but they never lasted very long. Dad liked his job and Mom was happy just being a house wife. Sayu used to ask me for help on her homework. I wondered how much things were going to change because of me. Would my parents blame themselves for my stupidity? It really had nothing to do with them. It had been _my _choice to start snorting crack.

For once, I'd made a bad decision. My desire to be successful had been crushed by my desire to escape reality. As I lay on my sister's bed, I began to ask myself if reality really was so terrible.

I may have been sick and going through all the usual withdrawal symptoms, but even I knew the correct answer to that question.

No.

No, reality was not terrible. I was not a bad-off teenager in need of attention. I had all the love I should of from my parents and my sister. We had everything we could ever want. Then why did I feel the need to start using that stuff? All it did was ruin my life.

As a scared teenager, I thought my parents would never look at me with loving eyes again.

By unknown circumstances, I was able to fall asleep that night. It was probably because I had been so exhausted from the start and once the adrenaline that had built up during my confrontations with Sayu and my Dad wore off, I was out. If I had any dreams that night, I don't remember them. It was like I fell into a black void and for a little while, everything was peaceful.

Until six o'clock in the morning came around, that is. Dad burst into Sayu's room and barked at me to get up, that it was time to go down to the police station. His words did not really sink in as I pushed myself up. It did not take long for the memories of the previous night to come flooding back though. I was being forced to turn myself in. My stomach was doing back flips as I got to my feet. Would I have to go to prison? That was the most likely answer in my mind. Most drug users got sent to jail or had to do some kind of community service. By this point, my fate was no longer in my hands. The police would probably decide what was going to happen to me.

Dad still did not let me back into my room so I had to wear the clothes I'd worn the day before. It was a little irritating but it was only a small problem so I didn't complain. I followed him down the stairs and into the kitchen, where Mom was making breakfast for Sayu before she went off to school. I just stood at the entrance to the kitchen while I watched the rest of my family interact. Sayu was talking to Mom about a math test she was going to have that day. It was hard for me to listen to her; I used to help her with her math and here she was, saying she'd been having trouble with it lately. If I had not been so caught up in my own problem, I could've helped her.

Luckily (or was it really luck, since I was about to go to the police?) Dad put down the cup of coffee Mom had given him and turned his attention back to me. "It's time to go, Raito," he said. He sounded tired. I assumed he'd stayed up for a long time, discussing what to do with me with my mother. I was relieved that I did not have to hear that conversation.

Numbly, I followed Dad out of the house. Mom and Sayu were still talking, but something about their words seemed forced. It was like they were trying to convince themselves that everything was still normal…that nothing had changed.

As painful as it was to realize that they were ignoring the situation, I was trying to put them out of my mind as well. I didn't know when I would get to see them again so I did not want to think about them. Even in my condition, I suppose I was still concerned about my family. That was one thing that was never going to change. They had been supportive of me for so long yet I had the nerve to destroy everything they had taught me.

But let me get back to the story. I certainly wasn't thinking about ways to ask my parents' forgiveness as my father forced me into a taxi. The driver watched us curiously through the rear-view mirror. His eyes met mine for a second but quickly darted away. He was nervous, which was not much of a surprise; Dad shoved me into the car and told me to stay quiet. I stole a quick glance at him. With his arms firmly crossed and his jaw set, he was definitely not ready for any more arguing. Even I was smart enough to shut up.

The drive to the police station was done in an awkward silence. Only the soft jazz on the radio drifted through the ridiculously clean car. I stared down at the mat on the floor, trying to imagine what was going to happen. My mouth was dry and my insides felt like they were trying to rearrange themselves. In my mind, I was trying to come up with ways to explain to the cops what I'd been doing for the past two years without getting myself in too much trouble.

If I lied though, then I'd really put myself in deep. The truth would probably be better, I figured, considering my circumstances. I'd never actually _sold_ any drugs; I just used them. Addicts and dealers were treated differently by the authorities, so maybe I would get off lucky and just have to go on some sort of probation.

Time for thinking abruptly came to an end. The taxi came to a halt right in front of the police station. As my father paid the driver, I stared out the window with wide eyes. My heart was thumping so quickly I felt like I might just die of a heart attack right then. Unfortunately, that didn't happen.

Dad got out and went around to open my door. I clambered onto the sidewalk and immediately stumbled. Naturally, I was incredibly nervous and lightheaded from lack of any substantial food. Of course Dad had no patience for my antics; he grabbed me roughly by the arm and dragged me up the stairs. The concrete beneath me looked unusually white, almost like marble. For some reason, I wondered if that was what it'd be like when I die and go to get judged. But then I reminded myself that I was not much of a religious man…and that the very thought that God would have to make up his mind about me was completely stupid.

Ironically enough, my father worked quite often with the police…so he took me right to one who just happened to be a close friend of his; Matsuda.

Matsuda was one of the younger officers but he was just as strict as the rest of them. Regardless of that, as soon as he saw us, he said a happy hello and asked what we needed help with.

I laughed. Help? Don't even start with that…

"Raito, tell him what you've been doing," Dad said softly. The revelation to him about my addiction seemed to have taken a lot out of him, despite the fact he'd just been dragging me around. Now that he did not have to keep a hold of me, his shoulders were sagging and he was slouching more than he did regularly.

Confused, Matsuda quirked an eyebrow and glanced at me. "What's going on?" he asked, an uncertain tone in his voice. Of all the people to bring me to, it had to be him. Before the drug fiasco, Matsuda had said that I would make a fine officer or something else of that sort. Once I confessed to him, he would be forced to eat his words. Maybe he would pretend I did not exist anymore, like Mom and Sayu were doing when I left that morning.

Nervously, I swallowed, although there was nothing in my mouth to swallow, so instead that just created a sickening feeling in my stomach. Even as I began to speak, I could not bring myself to look at Matsuda or my father. "Er…Well…it's kind of complicated, but it started two years ago," I said, my words coming out in a garbled mess, "I uh…started using drugs." In any other case, I could've lied so smoothly that Matsuda and my father would've believed whatever I'd said…But ever since the previous night, my life had been turned upside down.

Both Matsuda and my father were surprised by that statement. After all, Dad had not asked me how long I'd been using, so that was a shock for him too. I could feel both of them staring at me.

"Two years? Raito, why on earth did you start doing such a thing?" Matsuda asked finally, breaking the heavy silence that had fallen between the three of us. His words were slow and hesitant. Perhaps he was having as hard of a time as my father was swallowing all of this information.

If I told him the truth, that I just wanted to have a little fun every once in a while, he would have thought I was an idiot. After all, a first class student should know better than to get wrapped up in cocaine. The first time I'd tried it, I did not think about the consequences that would follow. I knew it was addicting but some how I thought that I'd be able to just use it when I felt like it. The thought that I would FEEL like using it ALL the time afterward never crossed my mind. To avoid embarrassment, I chose a different route. It was a white lie, so in some ways, I suppose it was true.

I tore my gaze away from the floor and met Matsuda's surprised gaze. "I…With all the stress put on me from school, I thought it'd be a good way to relax," I said, "It was foolish of me not to think of what would happen if I got caught…" So it was not a complete lie…Though school had never really stressed me out, I'd been so bored with it that I needed some form of excitement. It had just happened to come in the form of a drug.

As I spoke, one of the disgusting side-effects of snorting cocaine began to kick in. It was happening at least once a day, usually in the mornings…Nosebleeds. I could feel the blood seeping down, out of my nostrils. It was _not _what I'd wanted to happen at all but I could do nothing to prevent it. I covered the lower part of my face with my hand. Matsuda, however, knew what was going on and handed me some tissue that he'd taken from a dispenser on his desk. Once again, I could not look at him or my father. What was left of my pride and dignity would not allow it.

"Obviously you're in really deep," Matsuda said with a soft sigh, "So I can only offer you two options…"

"Raito can't decide on his own," Dad interrupted, "I'm sure you won't leave it up to him." I glared at him; how dare he assume I was not old enough to make my own choices. Sure, I'd made some stupid decisions in the past, but I was ready to get better. Did he honestly think I'd decide to just go to jail and give up on everything I'd worked so hard on? It made me angry and upset to hear that he had so little faith in me anymore.

Matsuda gave a short nod. "Of course, Yagami-san, you will have a say in what happens to him," he replied, "But Raito is eighteen and is an adult now so he will not be treated as a minor." It was strange to see Matsuda being so serious. The times he had come to our house, he had always been a very cheerful man…But it was because of the situation that he was being different. I really did not like to see this side of him. Still, at least _he_ was treating me like the young adult I was and not some sniveling child.

Dad could hardly argue with that, so he remained silent. I turned my attention from him back to Matsuda and tried my best to stop the nosebleed. "Go on, Matsuda-san," I said, my voice a bit muffled by the tissue and my hand.

"Well, Raito, since you are an addict and you have not confessed to ever taking part in trafficking—"

"I've never done that."

He gave me a small smile that told me that he figured as much. "You have two choices; you can either go to jail for three years or you can take part in Drug Court," he finished. Out of the two, the court deal did not sound too terrible, although I did not know all of what it entailed. Going to prison for three years was hardly something I wanted to do though, so I practically already made up my mind to attend the court, whatever it was.

"What would he be doing in the Drug Court?" Dad asked. Apparently, he felt the same way I did. That was a change.

Matsuda seemed relieved that he was asking about that. I supposed it was the lesser of two evils. "It's a rehabilitation program that we set up with the help of most of the hospitals here in Tokyo," he explained, "So far, seventy percent of all patients came out clean and have stayed clean since their release. In a way, it's like probation, but the patients are not allowed to return to their homes and are kept together…Um, I guess it's like going to therapy, but they do have to meet with a judge once a week and take drug tests frequently…That's because if they do use a controlled substance during their time there, they are thrown out of the program and get sent to jail." He said all of this fairly quickly, but it was easy enough to take in. Really, it did not sound too hard. Just go through the program, leave, and I could go back to how I'd been if I wanted to. If I'd been able to keep it a secret for so long, how hard could it be to do it again?

Dad looked over at me with a calm expression. I could see a desperate look in his eyes; I knew which one he wanted me to pick. "I'll try the court then. I'm sure it'll work for me," I said simply. In my mind, I thought rehabilitation was a joke. Even if so many of their "patients" said that it was such a wonderful program, I bet they all got the itch to use again once they were released.

No one is ever really free from an addiction; it follows them everywhere like a shadow.

(Author's Note: Ok, so I lied. L did not show up in this chapter. Good thing too; it would've been so rushed if he showed up here. Anyway, he WILL be appearing in chapter three! Hope everyone likes it! . Thanks for reading!)


	3. A man with a lying face

The Cry of Cicadas

Part Three: A man with a lying face

I spent the rest of the day in a holding cell. Matsuda explained to my father and myself that the next morning, he would take me out to the rehabilitation center. Dad left that afternoon. His last words to me were, "Don't mess this up, Raito. You've got the perfect chance to make things right again."

Sitting in a dank cell with nothing to entertain myself, I started thinking about a lot of things. Even if I went through the Drug Court, would I be one of the thirty percent who didn't get clean? In some ways, I wanted to get help and go back to being normal but in others, I wanted things to keep going the way they were. Taking steps to fight off an addiction seemed like a difficult task to me. Despite the fact that it _was_ a little intimidating, I had never been one to back down from a challenge.

But the question now was did I really want to be helped?

This was all up to me now, just as it had been. If I made the wrong choice, my life would continue to spiral downward. If I made the right choice, who knew what would happen. I knew I wanted to do something with my life and dying of a drug overdose really was not that something. Because of that, the conclusion I kept coming to was that I needed to do everything I was told in the program. Dying early in life was not something I had on my agenda, but if cocaine did still play a part in my life after my release, that would be fine with me. My parents had been ignorant of it for two years so I doubted it would be hard to keep it secret again.

That night was the longest night of my life. I knew I was about to hit a major turning point but I wasn't sure what would happen once I got passed that point. The only thing I could do was take my chances. I'd been in risky situations before so this would probably be no different. All I could do was wait for the morning to come.

I didn't know what time it was when Matsuda unlocked the door to my cell and told me to follow him. He said little to me as he led me out the back entrance to the police office. I was a little surprised he had not put me in handcuffs but in my weakened state, he probably knew I was not much of a danger. When he held open the door to the back of the police car for me, I looked over at him, trying to see if I could get a hint of what he must have thought of me. Unlike my father, though, Matsuda's expression was unreadable. He just waited patiently for me to get into the car, which I did after discovering that he couldn't be read so easily.

The back of the car smelled like some sort of pine air-freshener. Matsuda readjusted his rear view mirror and started the car. As the car backed out of the parking lot and entered the street, I found myself watching Matsuda again. He kept glancing at me, through the mirror, as if there was something that he wanted to say. I could imagine there were a number of things, since he had known me for a while. As a cop, he was probably ashamed of himself for not picking up on the hints about my addiction sooner. After all, every addict has his or her own little quirk, whether it's "the junkie shake" or constantly pinching their noses, there is always something that makes it easy to notice that something is not right.

It was an uneventful, silent ride to the rehabilitation center. I was surprised to see that it was not in Tokyo, but I supposed that was done for a reason. Most of the patients were from Tokyo, I assumed, so if they were kept in the city where they'd been introduced to drugs, it might make it easier for them to gain access to them again. This town, Yokosuka, was twenty minutes away from Tokyo. I had been there a few times with my friends but I rarely had any desire to go there on my own.

The center itself was a large, two story complex. It was pretty much how I'd pictured it in my head—only three buildings, surrounded by trees. Everything about it screamed mental asylum. I wondered if that was what it had been before it was turned into a rehabilitation center. On the inside, I was sure it was just as clean cut. In a way, this was like being sent to prison, but it was not going to be as harsh.

I could already tell this was going to be a joke.

We went through the automatic doors, immediately coming up on a lobby. To the right of the reception desk was a bulletin board with pictures of patients who came out of the program clean. Off to the left was a set of doors that led to the rest of the center. A young woman sat behind the desk, tapping away on a computer. It took her a moment to notice us, but when she did, she fixed Matsuda with a big smile and then turned to me. "Can you please go wait in the room to the left, Yagami-kun?" she asked me. She must have had something to discuss with Matsuda that they did not want me to hear.

Matsuda looked at me, uncertainty apparent in his eyes. "Raito, you be careful, ok?" he said, "Don't do anything to get sent to jail…"

"I'll be careful…" What did Matsuda take me for? I wasn't stupid enough to get sent to prison and even if I was, I wanted to get out of this place so badly that I was going to follow the orders I was given with the utmost certainty anyway. I opened the door and went inside. It was a typical waiting room, complete with the uncomfortable plastic chairs and a television showing the news on an inaudible volume. To my surprise, some of the patients were in there. Most of them were sitting together, playing a game of cards. They were laughing and joking with one another. It seemed like they were having a good time.

One was off by himself, watching the television with wide eyes. His knees were up against his chest and he kept his hands planted on top of his knees as if he was waiting for something to jump on. I noticed he wasn't wearing any shoes. His toes were wiggling almost nonstop. To say the least, he was very strange.

I sat down as far away from him as I could manage, which was unfortunately, the chair right under the television. It was unnerving to be in there, but to know that there was some crazy patient staring definitely did not help the matter. Still, I did my best and tried to ignore his gaze, telling myself that he was still watching the news. I had more important matters to think about. Matsuda was probably hitting on the receptionist, delaying any possibility there might have been for me to move on and get out of the waiting room.

As I imagined what Matsuda was talking about, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the shoe-less patient climb off of the chair he'd been crouching in. He stood up, although he was still hunched over, and shuffled toward me. I sighed. This guy was probably still doped up from his last hit, judging by his odd behavior. I didn't look at him directly, but I saw him give me a once over. He climbed onto the chair next to me and stared right at me. There were dark bags under his odd, buggy eyes.

"You must be Yagami Raito," he said. His voice was quiet and had a spacey quality to it, as if he was not aware of where he was.

I did not like the fact that he knew my name; it made me think that Matsuda had contacted the center earlier and then the workers had gone on to inform all the patients that I'd be coming there. "Yeah, that's me," I said, "How do you know my name?" Something told me that this guy was not going to give me a direct answer.

He sighed and rocked back and forth for a moment. "People talk, Raito-kun, and I listen," he replied, "It's not hard to realize that you're who I said you were. The receptionist works with us and I heard her last night talking on the phone, probably to the cop who brought you here. She has a habit of repeating what she's told. That's how I knew your name. 'Oh, all right, Yagami Raito, check in at nine thirty AM.'" When he repeated to me what she'd said, his voice raised an octave.

"Oh…" What was I supposed to say to that? I certainly had not been expecting that kind of an answer. Maybe if I ignored him, he would go away and bother someone else. I just wanted to be left alone.

"By the way," he said, leaning even closer to me, as if he was cautious of someone overhearing him, "My name's Ryuga Hideki." What was this guy thinking? I knew that Ryuga Hideki was a famous singer. He was pulling my leg. The very thought that he would share that name was stupid. Did he honestly think I'd fall for such a joke?

I frowned and looked straight at him, our noses practically hitting one another. "Yeah right," I said as I backed up a little, "Ryuga's a singer. What's your real name?" I didn't understand why this guy was telling me a fake name. Then again, I doubted I'd be able to figure out most of the people in this place. I wondered if all of the patients were going to be like this. If they were, then I almost thought prison might be better.

"It's L," he immediately replied. L. Of all the letters to choose, he chose that one. Not surprisingly, he pronounced it 'e-ru,' the sign of someone who was not very familiar with the English language. This also could not be his real name. I didn't understand why he kept giving me all of these terrible aliases.

I decided not to push it any further. It was up to him whether he told me his real name or not. "Ok, L," I said with a shrug. As far as I was concerned, that was the end of our conversation. I had nothing more to say to him and I hoped he felt the same way.

L frowned and tapped his index finger against his lip. "It's not my real name, you know," he said, as if he wanted me to guess what his name actually was.

"I figured as much." It really did not bother me that he didn't tell me what it was. Why should I let something so insignificant get to me? I had bigger issues to deal with and guessing some junkie's real name was not one of them.

"You don't want to know what it is?" L asked, tilting his head so he could look at me from a different angle. I wondered how long L had been in the program. This was probably only his second day, since he'd said that he overheard the receptionist talking about me. I doubted he had been here for long because of his incredibly odd behavior. Even if that was the case, I knew I was not going to be that crazy by tomorrow. That was not something that happened over night.

I shook my head. "It's your business whether you tell me or not," I said. I began regretting even saying anything to him. L just seemed way too out of whack to be the regular, run-of-the-mill junkie. There was something different about him…but that was probably just because of the fact that he was being such an idiot.

"Suit yourself," L said with a shrug, "How long do you think you'll be in here for?" It was not surprising that he wanted to keep our conversation going. He was probably desperate for someone to talk to. It was obvious that the people playing cards did not want him around them. It was kind of sad, but not sad enough to get me to feel sorry for him and try to make friends with him.

"Probably a few weeks," I replied. There was no way I could know for sure. How long could something like rehab take though? Certainly not more than two months, I figured.

"I've been here for a year."

Whether L was telling the truth or not, it was still a bit of a shock. People who stayed that long were probably never going to get better, so there was no point in keeping them around. I knew that the doctors, therapists, and judges were not willing to give up on someone who was determined to get better. If it was true, then L must have been very determined but very addicted at the same time. There was no telling how much damage he'd done to himself with whatever drug or drugs he'd been using. Judging by the way he acted, he'd abused himself much more than I did.

"You're lying, aren't you?" I asked, hoping he'd say yes. It was weird to think that there were people who'd been here for a year, possibly even longer.

L gave me a confused look. "Why would I lie, Raito-kun?" he countered, "Does this look like a lying face to you?" He seemed genuine, which was disturbing. Another thing that bothered me was the way he looked at me. His eyes were practically round, as if he'd just seen someone killed right in front of him. It was almost like he was desperate to get me to believe him.

I wanted to smack myself in the face. L was really starting to get on my nerves. "You lied about your name," I said, trying not to react. I assumed that was what he wanted. People acted in strange ways so for L to want to agitate me really would not be strange.

"I just wanted to see how you'd react," L said simply. He was talking to me as if he was some sort of therapist, which I knew he was not. It was irritating to hear those words. So he was not trying to find someone to just talk to—he wanted someone to observe and make conclusions about.

The idea that I was being the observed one was enough to make me want to get up and move. Despite that urge, I didn't want to just get up and go somewhere else because something told me that even if I did, L would just follow me and keep spouting off about how Ryuga Hideki was his twin brother or something equally as unrealistic.

L looked up at the ceiling, a somewhat thoughtful look on his mostly vacant face. "I don't think you'll be here for a few weeks," he said, pausing to let me wonder what he was going to predict, "I bet you'll be here for months, at least." Even if his prediction turned out to be true, I hoped that those months would not be spent around him. The center was not very big though, so I would probably be running into him often.

"What makes you say that?" I asked, humoring him.

"Cocaine addicts always have trouble. Don't be surprised if you get really itchy," L said. That much I already knew. I tried to ignore it, but sometimes I couldn't stop scratching my arms or anywhere else for no reason at all. It was because of the drug, that much I knew, but I did not understand why L thought it was necessary to tell me that. "Still…" he went on, "You're lucky. You're not as messed up as most of the people here so maybe you're right. Maybe you will get out in a few weeks, but I doubt it…and I'm usually right when I've got a hunch."

I smirked. In a few weeks, when I'm out of here, I thought, we'll see who's right.

(Author's Note: L is finally here! Whoo! Anyway, this didn't take long at all to write. :3; Once again, thanks to all the lovely people reading and leaving comments/reviews! You guys rock:D Please stay tuned for the next chapter.)


	4. Tell me how you really feel

THE CRY OF CICADAS

Part Four: Tell me how you really feel.

After an hour and a half of interrogation from L, I was finally taken back, further into the center. L's parting words continued to bother me even as the "receptionist" (whom I discovered was actually an intern there, hoping to become a therapist herself) showed me around.

"Don't worry, Raito-kun," he had said to me, "If you need any help, you can just ask me."

Of all the conceited, stupid things to say; there was no way I would even _consider _asking a fellow patient, especially one who had been there for a year—possibly longer—for any sort of help. In a way, I almost pitied him. L seemed to have no clue as to where he was or what he was doing there. All he did was stare mindlessly at the television or watch the others play cards and insult each other like five year olds.

Takada Kiyomi, the intern, was, in my opinion, the only person who I could have anything resembling a conversation with. I told her that as she led me toward what she had called "dormitories." Really, they just resembled prison cells. There was enough room for two beds, a table, and a tiny bathroom.

Despite my negative disposition toward the idea of a Drug Court in general, I felt a slight attraction toward Takada. I felt like she was on my level of mentality; smart, determined, and confident. She was also pretty, in a classic, refined sort of way. I started to think that with her around, maybe things really would not be too terrible…Until she told me her thoughts on my opinion of her.

"Yagami-kun, I'm sure you're a great guy," she said as she stopped in front of one of the small rooms, "But I can't really get involved with any of the patients here. You should know that." She gave me an awkward look, as if she really was not sure what she wanted to say. Her lips were pressed together tightly and there was something in her eyes that said everything she had not said out loud. Takada clearly thought I was a fool, an idiot for getting myself into this place.

In her mind, we were nothing alike. She was on her way to a successful career. I was on my way to a shit life.

Reality isn't like the movies. The unfortunate man never really gets the well-off girl. He ends up with nothing while she goes off and gets married to a rich man who has everything she thinks she wants.

That conversation ended there. Takada slid the door open and motioned for me to go inside. "This is your room mate. Please be nice to him, okay?" she said, a hint of laughter on her voice. I started to wonder if she took all this as some sort of sick joke. The thought that all of the patients were just there for her amusement disgusted me, but at the same time, I was trying to convince myself that I was above the other people receiving treatment.

I said nothing to her as I went into the small room. Even if I had wanted to, I doubt I would have been able to; I was too dumbfounded by the boy sitting on the bed across from the one that was obviously going to be mine. There was no way he could be a day over fifteen, I thought. He looked like such a child. But when he met my gaze, I noticed there was more to him than there appeared to be. In his dark eyes, there was a strange sort of intelligence, a complexity that a fifteen year old boy could never have. There was an adult hidden under his childish exterior.

"My name is Near," he said as Takada shut the door, "It's a pleasure to meet you." He held up his right hand, while his left snuck up to start coiling his platinum hair around his little fingers. Near, another pseudonym. I began to wonder if it was a normal thing for patients to use aliases around one another. It seemed like a stupid thing to do but in a way, I supposed it made sense. The patients at the center probably did not want a lot of other people knowing their real names in case something happened that might be brought to light later on in their lives.

"It's nice to meet you," I replied, shaking his hand, "I'm Yagami Raito." Despite the fact that it was a simple greeting, it was awkward for me. Near's eyes were staring right into mine with a creepy intensity. It irked me to think that as I was doing with him, he was making assumptions about me.

He retracted his hand first. "Raito, hm? Must be a fake name," he said, scooting back against the wall. Near had no room to talk, I thought. A name like "Near" is hardly realistic. It's not even an English name. I pursued it no further though. I had a feeling that Near would just continue to throw aliases at me, as L had done earlier. Near was strangely a lot like L.

After meeting L and Near, the day went by in a haze of blood tests and explanations. I was asked the same questions again and again and repeated my story over and over to nameless social workers and police. They told me I wouldn't go to jail this time. If I was caught again, I would. Somehow, I accepted this news numbly. It was basically what Matsuda had told me already. I had expected it. Nothing these people told me affected me. Their words were not enough to get me to want to give up my addiction. They, too, seemed to realize that. They just had to say the things they said in order to get pay checks.

My first appointment with a private therapist was that evening. I felt like I'd lived a year in a day. All I really wanted to do was have some time to myself, but apparently the people in the center did not believe in privacy. I knew that if I didn't go, it would just take longer to get out of this place.

I told myself that I didn't need therapy.

Namikawa Reiji. The name sat boldly in gold _kanji_ characters on a nameplate in front of me. It seemed like the first normal name I'd seen in a long time. He was not in the room yet. All I could do was sit there and wait. There was a guard (although I'd been told not to think of them as guards) standing outside the door, in case I should get up and try to get out. The guards were posted around the center in places where patients were most suspected to try and break free from.

It really was like a prison more than it was like a hospital. The people here were not sick for the most part. They had done things purposefully and ended up here as punishment in order to be rehabilitated and sent back out into society as new people. In prison, the criminals are supposedly rehabilitated also. They even have chances to graduate high school or college. At the center, though, there are no gyms or schools or televisions.

Before I could wonder if prison was actually better, Namikawa walked into the little room. He sat down behind his desk and smoothed his long hair behind his oddly long ears. "So…I'm sure I don't need to ask you if you're Yagami-kun," he said as he took a look at the contents of a folder with my name scribbled on it in black ink.

"That's me."

"I wasn't asking if you were, was I?" Namikawa said, shutting the folder and running his long fingers across its manila cover. He fixed me with an unreadable stare. I did not like him already. If all therapists were as condescending and standoffish as he was, I doubted anyone ever got help for any problem, no matter how insignificant.

"No."

It was a simple answer, one that he probably would not appreciate. I was not there to make him appreciate me so I decided I could talk to him however I wanted to. He certainly did not seem concerned with my mental "well-being." If I could know that I was irritating him, I'd be happy. This guy was a conceited asshole. I wondered how he even became a therapist, if that was what he really was.

He tapped his French nails on his desk. Like any metrosexual, he was more concerned with his appearance than his personality. As long as his eyebrows were waxed and his nails were glossy, he probably did not care if he was the world's biggest jerk. "Good. Now, let's get down to business," he said, his eyes darting up to my face.

I rolled my eyes. Namikawa only seemed to be in the therapy business for the money. He did not need it and neither did I. "You're wasting your time," I told him flatly.

"No, no I'm not wasting my time," he said, shaking his head, "I'm making money." His straightforwardness irked me. I wanted to smack him across his girlish face and tell him to fuck off.

The drumming stopped. He sighed and brushed his hair behind his ear. "Now, Yagami-kun, tell me why you started snorting cocaine," he demanded. It was not a question or a simple ice breaker. It was a request. A command. According to the tone in his voice, I did not have the option of telling him or not.

As I've said before, my reasons were simple. I was bored. I needed some sort of sense of excitement in my life. I crossed my arms and fixed him with a steely glare of my own. "It seemed like a fun thing to do."

Namikawa's humorless laugh filled the room. "Fun, huh?" he sneered, "So there's nothing like you wanted to get away from your harsh reality or your terrible parents then?" Sarcasm dripped from every word. I wondered how long he would be able to keep his job.

I shrugged. "No, there's not," I told him, "I was just bored." Such a thing did not strike me as hard to believe. In the mind of a therapist, it probably came across as a lie.

His lips pursed for a moment as he leaned forward and laced his long fingers together. "Tell me how you really feel," he said softly, an imploring look in his eyes. I did not understand this sudden change.

"What? Shouldn't that be obvious?" I asked, "I already told you; I was bored. I didn't feel like I wanted to escape from anything." Namikawa was not making any sense. I did not think that there was any sort of reasoning behind his method. It was all skewed. But whatever he was doing, he seemed to be doing it right…Otherwise he would not have a job.

Once again, he sighed impatiently. "Yagami-kun if you don't tell me the truth, you'll never get out of here. You'll be just like L."

L.

Again.

What did _he_ have to do with anything?

(Author's Note: Wow. I took FOREVER getting this chapter done. I apologize! I was in a funk for a while but now I think things will get going. 3 Thanks for being patient!)


	5. Favorite Colors, MisaMisa

THE CRY OF CICADAS

Chapter Five: Favorite Colors and Misa-Misa

Namikawa was officially my enemy. The "therapy" session was two hours of uncomfortable conversation. When his timer went off, I got up before he even told me to leave. He knew I did not like him. I knew he did not like me. At least we were on the same level. Our mutual hatred for one another made it obvious that one on one therapy sessions would get me nowhere. He had made it perfectly clear that he thought I was a hopeless cause.

That I was just like L.

I did not see any resemblance between L and myself. L truly was hopeless. He probably had more problems than I ever did or ever would. The thought that he and I were the same was completely wrong.

The clock in his office said that it was nine o'clock PM. Patients had to be back in their rooms by nine-thirty, so I figured I'd just go back…since I did not want to spend any more time with Namikawa or run into L again. Since turning myself in, I had not had a moment of privacy. I was beginning to feel like an animal on display, for people like Namikawa and Kiyomi to watch and evaluate.

I went out of the office and into the stark, white hallway.

L was standing right outside of the office, leaning against the wall. His hands were in his pockets and his head was hanging forward. "What do you think of Reiji?" he asked me, a friendly tone in his voice. I did _not _want to become _friends_ with L. It would just prove that Namikawa was right.

"He's a pompous asshole," I said as I walked away from L. His bare feet smacked against the tile floor as he followed me. It was annoying to think that he had probably been waiting just outside the door the entire time I had been there. I did not understand why he seemed so fascinated with me…But for someone who had been there for a year, or possibly longer, what else was he supposed to do?

He came up next to me and narrowed his buggy eyes. "Reiji knows what he's doing," he said, "But he doesn't do a very good job of being amiable." Everything he was telling me was something I already gathered. Namikawa obviously was good at his job. He obviously was not friendly.

I shrugged. "I know that," I said, ready to get back to my room and away from L. Of course, Near would be there, waiting. He was almost the same as L. It seemed that I would never get away from these strange people.

L pursed his lips as he looked at me. The look on his face led me to believe he was measuring me up. "Raito-kun, the more rebellious you are, the longer you'll be here," he said, "Then my prediction will be proven correct." I knew in the back of my mind that he was right. The more I disrespected Namikawa, the more I did not do as people told me, the longer I would be stuck in this pseudo-prison.

He could think that he would be right all he wanted; I knew what I was doing and I knew I would be out of there within a manner of months. But instead of arguing any further, I just kept my mouth shut. Arguing with L was like arguing with a brick wall. What was left of my patience that day just could not handle it.

My silence aroused suspicion. "What's the matter?" L asked me, staring at me with his void-like eyes.

"Nothing."

The rest of the walk back to the room I shared with Near was done in an awkward silence. L stared at me the whole time, which I was not very surprised about, but something about his gaze made me feel strange. Not uneasy, but not comforted either. L was there and hardly there at the same time. Now, years later, I am still not sure what it was like to be around him.

Near was still awake when I returned. Luckily, by then, L had gone off on his own so I thought I would not have to put up with any sort of stupid questions about him. But as usual, my luck had turned rotten.

"Do you know L?" he asked me, looking up from the puzzle he had taken from the so-called "recreational" room. It was almost finished; a picture of some cliché landscape, complete with a cottage and a waterfall. The remaining tiny pieces lay scattered across the floor.

I shrugged and sat down on my bed. By then, I had had enough of questions. "Not really," I replied flatly. If the conversation ended there, I would be happy.

It was not going to.

Near put a few pieces together and sighed. "L's a nice guy but he lost in his game," he said ambiguously, his dark eyes flicking up from the puzzle to me. What he could possibly mean by "game," I had no idea. It was probably just some stupid phrase he had picked up from watching too much television as a kid. Strangely enough, his white, nondescript clothing reminded me of something a host of a low-budget game show might wear.

Now it was my turn to ask a question. "What do you mean?"

Once again, he sighed and picked up the puzzle, dumping it out on the floor. All that work, for nothing. "L was supposed to be here for two months," he replied, "But when he got out he used again and this time he lost. So he's stuck here until his family can arrange for a place for him to stay where people won't know who he is." As he spoke, he began putting the puzzle back together, barely taking any time to even look at the pieces. He seemed to have them memorized.

But his words took me by surprise. Two months had turned into a year…and now it might even become an even longer span of time. Whatever L had done had obviously messed him up more than I had originally suspected. I did not understand what Near meant by "a place where people won't know who he is," either. While I did not know L's real name, why would it be important for people not to recognize him? That would defeat the purpose of him trying to recover. If no one knew who he was, there would be no way he could receive any sort of help.

When I went to ask what he meant, Near shook his head and immediately announced he was going to bed. As he turned off the light, he said I would find out more later, if I really was so interested in L. According to him, everyone was.

The next morning, I was directed to the clinic wing of the center. As soon as I arrived, I realized what I would have to do. In rehabilitation centers, even the kind where the patients lived in them, they still had to undergo weekly drug tests. Needles were not things I was overly fond of but I supposed I would suck it up and deal with it. I kept telling myself that in a few months, this would all be over.

Unless I did end up like L.

That thought crossed my mind right as the nurse inserted the needle into my arm. I tensed, concentrating more on my thoughts than the fact that she was draining my blood, but she immediately took it that I was nervous. "I woulda thought that a druggie'd be used to needles," she said, her sad attempt at a joke.

I laughed without any humor. "Not all drugs involve injection," I told her, as if she did not already know. I felt the needle pull out of my vein, all the while imagining what it would be like to put up with that every week or possibly every day, in some people's cases, for a year. Someone like L, who had been there once, left, and back again probably had to go every day.

Once she'd stuck a band aid over the little puncture wound, she told me to head over to a group therapy session I had apparently been assigned to. I tried not to look too thrilled. Individual therapy was bad enough…going through it with other patients would be even more annoying. I was not a very understanding person and did not like to relate to others, whether we were alike or not.

The group therapy was in a small room near the office where I had met Namikawa the previous day. Unlike the office, this room had a more welcoming atmosphere. The chairs were arranged in circles. There was only one left for me. It did not take me long to notice that L was among the patients in the group. He did not acknowledge me though. To his right, sat Near, twisting his platinum hair around his fingers. Among the others in the group was a tall, dark haired young man with a grief-stricken expression on his face, a lanky, heroin addict (the veins swelling on his arms made it obvious), and a short, blonde haired girl.

The girl had a name tag on. It read "Misa-Misa" in big, swirly characters. No one else had them. She smiled up at me and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Raito-kun, hello!" she beamed and motioned toward the empty seat, "Sit down, sit down!" I sat down, in between the heroin addict and the dark haired man.

Everyone in the group had their eyes on me. I stayed quiet and laced my fingers together, hardly wanting to be the center of attention. They seemed to be expecting something from me. "Hello," I said, for lack of anything better to say. That satisfied them, luckily. They averted their eyes, looking at each other instead of me. It was like they were sending each other messages about what they thought of me.

"Welcome, Raito-kun," Misa said and immediately resumed what their discussion, "So, we were talking about colors we liked, right? Favorite colors mean a lot about people…Raito-kun, why don't you tell us what color you like?" It was such a simple, yet pointless question…and Misa seemed to take it pretty seriously. For someone like her, I supposed things like that were important. No one else in the group seemed to care.

Colors were not things I tended to think about. But the spotlight had been shot back on me. "Black, I suppose," I said. It was a nondescript color, I figured. Although in most cases, black tended to represent feelings of depression or death. Misa would probably latch onto that.

She did.

"What do you think black says about you, Raito-kun?" she asked, practically ignoring the other young men in the group. The blond heroin addict was giving her an impatient glare, his foot tapping faster than I'd ever seen a foot move. Meanwhile, L was staring at me with more interest than Misa or Namikawa combined. Near and the dark haired man were preoccupied with other things.

I shrugged. "Nothing," I said honestly, "It was just the first color I thought of." I was beginning to wonder what the point of this was. At least with Namikawa, things seemed to be going somewhere. But here, in this primary school conversation, nothing was progressing.

"You should be more enthusiastic," L stated.

I gritted my teeth.

God damn him.

(Author's Note: Next chapter, more group therapy! Guess who the other two guys are. One should be pretty obvious! More will be revealed about L in the next chapter too! Stay tuned!)


	6. Interesting Things

THE CRY OF CICADAS

Chapter Six: Interesting Things

_"You need to be more enthusiastic…"_

L's words irritated me so much that I almost got up and punched him in the face. By that point in time, I'd had enough of people telling me what I needed to do but Misa caught him before I could.

"Don't be mean, Ryuuzaki-kun, Raito-kun is new!" she said, "This is his first time here, so please be nice, everybody."

Ryuuzaki?

I glanced over at L, who simply replied to Misa with a slight nod. I found myself wondering just how many different names he actually used. It almost seemed as though he had a different name for every person that he met but then I remembered that Namikawa and Near had referred to him as L. L, of course, was obviously the sort of person who enjoyed to confuse people.

Misa cleared her throat and brushed her long, bleached hair over her slim shoulders. "So, since Raito-kun is new, I thought we'd go around and tell a bit about ourselves," she explained, "I'll go first!!"

No one else had volunteered.

The others in the group shifted impatiently. They had all probably gone through this countless times before. That did not particularly bother me, though I had no interest in getting to know any of them, really.

"My name is Misa-Misa and I'm eighteen years old! I'm studying to be a psycho-therapist and I've been interning here now for about six months!" Misa exclaimed. An intern with only six months of experience was handling a group therapy session? While that hardly made sense to me, the others did not even give it a second thought. They were not bothered by her at all. At any rate, her lack of experience and her extreme perkiness were a welcome change from Namikawa's pompous attitude.

"Teru-kun, how about you go next?" she suggested, motioning to the dark haired young man, "Tell us your name and two interesting things about yourself."

He glanced over at Misa, a blank expression on his pale face. At first, I thought he was embarrassed but the truth was that he just did not care about any of this. "Mikami Teru," he said, his voice quiet and low, "I was a law student before I got arrested for possession of marijuana. I've been here for two weeks." After that, he was silent. Mikami cast his gaze to the floor, not looking at anyone. He was either ashamed of himself or just indifferent. For a law student, to do something so stupid, I hoped he was ashamed. Looking back, of course, I know now that it was hypocritical to think that. I was in a similar situation…though I did not regret anything at that point.

Misa gave Mikami a vaguely disappointed look, as though she had expected more. "Next…is Near-kun!" she decided, putting whatever disdain she had for Mikami aside. It was immature of her to display such emotions. She was the same age as I was, yet she acted younger. That was irritating to me, since she was the one who was supposed to be the professional.

Near looked over at me, as if he was just addressing me, which was strangely unnerving. I began to wonder just what he had done to wind up in this place. "My name is Near, although all of you already know that," he said, "I am sixteen." Satisfied with that, he turned away from me, still curling his hair around his thin fingers. The fact that he was so young struck me as odd, though I was not much older than he was.

"Hey! I said _two_ things, Near-kun!" Misa said, a huffy tone in her voice. She was obviously getting annoyed by Mikami and Near's lack of enthusiasm. I was surprised L had not put his two cents in yet.

With a sigh, Near shook his head. "I did say two things, Amane-san. My name and my age," he said blandly. I did not like him but I had to agree. In this case, he was right.

Of course, Misa thought otherwise. "Fine! But not talking just means you have problems that you're not ready or willing to deal with," she said, as if she was quoting someone else. It was probably a line she had learned from her psychology 101 instructor.

"You're right," Near said simply, "But I did as you asked."

Misa chose to say no more on the subject, though I had a feeling she would press him about it later. "Ryuuzaki-kun, you're next," she said, adopting her cheerful demeanor once more. A smile graced her glossy lips. Nothing seemed to be bothering her at all now. Her range of emotions rivaled that of a chameleon's ability to change skin color.

L rocked forward on the chair he sat on. "I have a lot of names. Call me whatever you like," he said, "I used to live in Los Angeles. I moved here with a relative. A few months after that, I came here." I was not sure if he was just trying to be vague or if that was really all he wanted to say. Either way, his words left much open to interpretation. It was not very surprising that he chose to say so little. He did not seem to want to talk about himself.

"This is the beginning of my second year here," L went on, "I did a lot of things that I shouldn't have done but there's no point in saying I wish I could take it all back. Such a thing is impossible."

His words were followed by an awkward silence. Misa fumbled with the hem on her skirt, unsure of what to say to that. L, however, was not phased. I was beginning to wonder what had happened to him and why he had spent such a long time in the center but I quickly pushed those thoughts away. To become interested in L would be to give him what he wanted, I told myself.

Finally, the blond heroin addict decided that it was his turn. "I'm Mello," he said, brushing his hair behind his ear. A large, oddly shaped scar became visible. "I used to traffic drugs into Shibuya and Harajuku. I've used ecstasy, heroin, and all sorts of other shit. I spent five years in prison. Now I'm s'posed to get clean. But hell, I don't think that's gonna happen." He glared at me, his large eyes full of some sort of fierce emotion. To think that he had been in prison and was now here…It was an unimaginable torture. The center was practically just like a prison.

L sighed, obviously irritated by Mello's apparent lack of enthusiasm. Really, L struck me as a bit hypocritical; if he was going to harp to others…then why had he been there for so long? If he was so full of enthusiasm, he should have only been there for a month at the most.

The rest of the session went on in that manner. Misa asked us questions, we took turns answering, and she wrote things down on her note pad, though, sometimes it looked as though all she was doing was scribbling. It was difficult for me to take her seriously. While Namikawa had been extremely irritating, Misa was just too childish to be professional (hence why she was an intern).

I began to wonder just what good was going to come of this program. Mello blatantly had no faith in it…and L had been stuck there for quite a while. Near and Mikami seemed more or less indifferent. I had a feeling that Near and Mikami, at least, would get out fairly quickly without any real difficulties. If they could do it, then I knew I could as well. There was no reason to have any worries about it.

Yet, once again, while I thought about that, I remembered that L had told me cocaine addicts often had trouble. The fact that I was even taking L's words into consideration disgusted me. There was no way he knew, or could relate to, anything about me. He was just saying those things to annoy me.

…Or so I thought at the time.

(End chapter six! JEEZ. That took forever. College is sucking up a lot of my time but now that this chapter is done, it'll go faster, I believe. Thanks sooo much for all the reviews and such. You guys are so sweet! Next chapter…Matt makes his debut appearance and there is more L and Raito…oddness. Please stay tuned!)


	7. Denchers

Chapter Seven: Denchers

The first thing I noticed was that his teeth were perfectly straight and pearly white. This was Matt, a young man from Yokosuka who was half Japanese and half American. He was a new addition to our group and was apparently a meth addict at one point.

His teeth were false.

Right off the bat, he and Mello became good friends for whatever reason. But I didn't see much of him, really…

It was a rare occasion that we were allowed anything that even resembled free time. We were all normally kept busy with various things, but today there was some emergency with one of the other patients and apparently it was taking the attention of all the workers at the center.

Not that I cared.

Of course, this also meant that L/Ryuuzaki/whatever his name was that day, had time to do as he pleased. And of course, "as he pleased," meant bothering me.

I had been sitting outside in the courtyard, minding my own business, when I heard him shuffle up behind me. Despite the fact that we all were supposed to wear slippers provided by the center, L insisted on parading around barefoot.

"Do you prefer being alone all the time?"

Yet another stupid question.

I glanced over my shoulder at him and shrugged carelessly. "What does it matter to you?"

L wasn't even looking at me. His coal-black eyes were turned upward toward the sky, though really, it didn't seem like he was looking at anything in particular. It was as if he was some sort of being from another planet. Even if I had wanted to, I had no idea how to relate to someone like him.

"If you want to get through this, you should probably make friends." His voice was as flat as a board.

"How is that going to help, exactly?" I asked, getting up from the bench I'd been sitting on. I turned to face him, but he still wasn't looking at me.

He sighed rather wistfully. "Yagami-kun, can I ask you a personal question?" Upon saying this, he met my gaze with a blank one of his own.

The way he looked at me made me feel a little awkward. It was a sort of stare that could make a person feel totally invisible.

"Go ahead." By this point, I was beyond caring.

"If you're here, you must obviously want to get better, but you aren't even trying," L said. He paused, giving me an inquiring look.

"Why is that, exactly?"

Of all the questions he could've asked me, that was not exactly what I had been expecting. L tended to talk about stupid, meaningless things. He never seemed to care about anything beyond what color the ceiling tiles in the bathroom were, yet here he was, asking me a question I didn't even know the real answer to.

"I was forced to come here," I replied after a moment. It was the truth, wasn't it?

"Hm…"

Judging by the sound of that, L clearly didn't buy it. "But even if you were forced, you were still given some sort of option. Even I had a choice," he said. "I think there's a lot about yourself that you don't even know, Yagami-kun. You're still trying to figure yourself out, and now that you're here, you can't do it."

I had been about to tell him he was wrong, but he cut me off.

"You need to get out of here. This place will suck you dry, leaving you nothing but a shell of your former self. All I'm saying is that if you don't TRY to get better, you'll be here for years, and when you do get out, all you'll want to do is come back."

It was the first time L actually sounded enthusiastic about something. I wasn't sure why, but I felt like he was right.

I would wind up like him.

Author's Note: Okay, short chapter, yeah. But I needed a short chapter to get the ball rolling again. It's been a seriously long time since I touched this. A lot has happened since the last update. Car accidents, moving overseas, etc, etc. Anyway, I really appreciate your patience, and now that I'm writing again after a very, very long absence, I would like to apologize for keeping you all waiting for so long. And to those who are still reading it, I freaking love you. I know this chapter isn't on par with the previous ones, but I'll be back to my old self in no time. I promise. 3


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